The Closet
by Maiden of Spades
Summary: If you were to ask L about his childhood, the first thing to pop in his mind would probably be the closet. Wait...what closet?


The Closet

If you asked L about his childhood, the first thing to come to mind would most likely be the closet.

Wait. A...closet? What closet? Why a closet?

Well, my dears, the answer is very simple. L's mother was...escort.

Let me explain...

Ophelia Cooper was foolish, to say the least. Had she stayed home and continued schooling, she could have lived her life as a famous pianist, performing all over the world and making millions, soon becoming a classic to be shared for decades.  
Instead, she decided it was a great idea to quit school and leave home to party. With no proper education or family to support her, she decided to turn to the business of _entertainment_ and _pleasure_.  
...Don't look at me like that. That's how she put it. Not me.

As you can imagine, she soon got pregnant with a little boy. She named him L.

She wanted to name him Elle, but that was too feminine on paper, so she stuck with the letter because she thought it was more masculine, blah blah blah. Long story short: She's terrible at coming up with names.

She stopped working for a while and was taken in by a close friend of hers, being allowed to stay there as she raised L until he was four-and-a-half.  
While the friend understood where she was coming from, he was also quite annoyed with the child and her not even bothering to help pay the rent. To him, Ophelia was getting lazy, despite putting all her time in raising her son. But hey, I guess he just didn't see that when he kicked her out.  
Ophelia saw no other choice but to go back to being an escort. She didn't want to do it, but she needed to find a way to support her son and herself, at least until she can find a friend to take them in or, if she was lucky, find L's father.

But what did this have to do with a closet?

As you can imagine, Ophelia's clients weren't too fond of children, at least not around the tiny apartment she was able to afford. There was also no daycare or people to look after her son while she worked.

Guess where he went.

L knew that whenever a client came around, he was to go into the closet and stay absolutely silent. It didn't matter if it was dark, or cramped, or even if there were rodents or other pests. If he absolutely needed to stretch, he could only stand up and stand on his toes. He didn't like doing that, though. Whenever he stood up, he was able to see men (and sometimes women) do..._things_ to his mother. It was bad enough that he could already hear everything while sitting down.  
He tried talking to his mother about it, about how he hated the closet and how there were other ways for her to make money, but she would always refuse, telling him he was simply far too young to understand how things worked in real life. The boy ended up giving up, eventually, deciding that she had a point since he was only a small boy who's only seen the small apartment, mostly the closet and the small bed he was reluctant to sleep in after knowing what went on and what liquids spewed out onto it. The only time he got on the bed was towards the winter when the nights were cold and his mother would sometimes hold him to keep him warm under the few blankets they had.

October came around and L noticed his mother was...well, she was a lot happier than usual, more cheery and excited. Every time her son asked why she was smiling so much, she simply told him that they both might receive a special present by the time his birthday came around. He was confused by this seeing as they never really did anything for birthdays other than having less customers and maybe going to the library (not checking anything out, though). He'd shrug it off, though. A present was a present and he shouldn't be so selfish with how little they have.

The so called "present" didn't arrive until his birthday, though.

That night, Ophelia rushed into the room and put him in the closet, making him a little disappointed as he sat there.  
But what he heard, though, weren't like the other noises he'd expect to heard there was some arguing this time, his mother having a dispute with another man and the boy could almost hear her tears. The boy couldn't tell what they were saying, though, only hearing few words and phrases like "Where were you!" and "No I'm not!" with the occasional sputters of "Prove it!" coming from the man.

L felt something was wrong and as he stood, he purposely looked through the key hole to try and see if everything was all right. From what he could see, the man was but a few years older than Ophelia, with black hair and his features showing he could be either Russian or Japanese, or maybe a mix of both. He looked nothing like his mother, except for maybe the grey eyes they both seemed to have.

Soon enough, the arguing enhance and L was almost too afraid to move as the man began beating his mother, eventually pushing her out of sight and pulled a gun out of his leather jacket and shot her once, which was enough to make the poor boy scream and the man inching closer to the closet, gun in hand as he opened the closet door, nearly ripping it off it's hinges as he aimed his gun and pulled the trigger.

Which hit the wall, seeing that the boy swiftly ran between the man's legs and made his way out the door, down the stairs, and out into the cold that was autumn, the fact that he didn't see his mother completely skipping his mind. The boy kept running and running into the night, trying to avoid touching the sordid humans that crowded the side walk as he ran far from home and far from the man in the leather jacket.  
About an hour later, L became tired of running, having not had much exercise or even much room in the apartment to move.  
He stopped and walked into in ally, plopping down on the dirty concrete as he leaned his back on the brick walls as he panted like a dog, thinking about his mother with every breath he took.  
Soon enough, he realized how late it was, how cold it was getting. There wasn't anywhere else he could go and he was certainly not going back to that apartment. Instead, he spent the night in a box, hoping the man wouldn't find him there if he was still looking, and the boy resented the fact that he was able to curl up in the right space without a struggle.  
Ever since that fateful night on his seventh birthday, little L had spent his time as a beggar on the streets, many times having to pick-pocket some money for food, his only education being when he was at libraries. That is, until the Saint Mary's Orphanage took him in, the boy having a roof over his head, food, an education, and several traumatizing beatings, all because of Ophelia's decision to keep him in the closet.


End file.
